Page 3 of Hunted for Halloween

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Then, he slowly runs his thumb over my parted lips, dipping two fingers into my mouth. He stares down at me with darkened whiskey eyes as I suck on his fingers, releasing low, thirsty sounds.

“I'm going to give you two options, Pumpkin,” he begins, pulling my tiny body flush against his without enough force that my aching breasts crush against the hard ridges of his chest.

I gasp when his breath hits the shell of my ear, sprouting goosebumps all over my body.

“You can turn around now and run far away from me, pretend as if you never met me. Or you could stay and I'll do what I want with you.” His tone dips low and suggestive, eliciting a harsh swallow from me. “What's it going to be, Pumpkin?”

Voice like whiskey and sin. Hard muscles. Cedarwood and musk scent. Whiskey eyes. They are all rolled into one fatal combination that's actively turning the wheels in my head.

My vision slowly blurs in ecstasy, my lips gaping open when he pushes one of his rough hands up my thigh, hiking up my short dress.

“W-what are you going to do to me?” I can't resist asking him, hating how breathless I sound.

In all my twenty-seven years that I have been on this earth, no man has ever wrenched out raw, unhinged emotions like these from me. It's strange, addictive and consuming.

“You have ruined your panties, Pumpkin. Such a dirty girl.” He glides his fingers over my soaked lace panties, causing me to jerk in his arms and clench my fist in the material of his shirt.

A rush of hunger mixed with embarrassment sweeps through me. I feel so embarrassed to be so wet for some creepy muscular stranger I met in a corn maze on Halloween . I feel dirty, but I can't deny that I want him to put out the fire he has set ablaze between my thighs.

His hand moves up my neck, veiny fingers digging through my hair and fisting it in a shameless, possessive grip that makes my cunt pulse when he tugs on it. The movement tilts my head backwards, locking my needy gaze with his dark ones as he strokes me through my underwear.

“Please, daddy.” The plea unfurls from my lips before I can stop myself.

His jaw clenches, an edgy lust flickering in his eyes. “What did you just call me?” he growls out those words, messing up my underwear even more.

Fuck. Where did that even come from?

“Daddy,” I repeat, biting my lip shyly.

“Don't you ever call me anything else, do you understand?” His voice is huskily harsh as he shifts my underwear to the side.

I nod my head, arching my body into him, desperate for his touch.

“Use your words, Pumpkin.” he pinches my clit, slapping my pussy. I drench his fingers with my wetness, a long moan expelling from my mouth.

“Yes, daddy.”

I hop to my tiptoes when he slides a finger into my dripping cunt. It's not as though it's my first time getting fingered, but having a large veiny finger push into me without warning makes me feel like I'm being stretched to my full capacity.

“Fuck, your pretty little pussy is welcoming me home.” His fingers dig harder into my hair. “You are making a mess on my fingers, Pumpkin.” He says huskily, retracting his finger from my tight folds and thrusting it into me again.

I grab onto his shirt, moaning loudly. My legs shake as my pussy swallows his finger with every thrust he makes in and out of me. He looks like a fucking sex god with his masked face, those whiskey eyes honing on me, glinting with a devilish edge. His finger goes in and out of me in torturous strokes, and when he adds one more, wrenching out a shaky moan from me.

“Ah…there, right there…”

“Here?”

He curls them inside me, hitting my sensitive spot with every thrust. I flush against him, burying my face into his chest tomuffle my loud moans. My body quakes with ecstasy , my eyes threatening to drift shut because of the unhinged pleasure he's offering me with his fingers. His scent envelopes me, trailing shivers down my spine. I have never been in the proximity of a man who smells so masculine and seductively intense in such a dark way. It's intriguing, maddening, even.

Just like the way he fucks me into oblivion with his fingers.

“You are going to come for me pumpkin, aren't you?” he drags out a ragged breath, his palm coming down to the small of my back to keep me in place as he leans in to bury his face into my neck.

He nips at my neck, hard.

“Yes, daddy.” I whimper, soiling his shirt with my saliva.